


Scars Of The Moonlight

by Gravestar14



Category: Linked Universe - Fandom, The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Drabble, Even more trauma, Gen, Happy (ish) ending, I’m so kind to these characters (Not), Let’s add more trauma, More trauma, Time-centric, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:20:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25766608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gravestar14/pseuds/Gravestar14
Summary: A short drabble I did for practice on a lw on a discord server.
Relationships: Malon (Legend of Zelda)/Time (Linked Universe)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	Scars Of The Moonlight

They’d found him at the top of the clock tower, sprawled out on its flat surface. Frozen. None of the guards knew what was going on. Sure, the moon had been looming ominously close for a couple of days, but it was nothing major. Nobody had any idea.  
Nobody, save for the child- the one on top of that clock tower- frozen, with images of gods and monsters in his head. And light symmetrical scars on his cheeks.  
He hadn’t talked while the guards pulled him down. Hadn’t even helped. After that, he barely managed to stumble back to Hyrule, where his legs somehow took him to the palace gates. There were no tears. Just the images burned into his brain like the world had almost burned while he shoved his fingers into the holes of the Ocarina and blew out the final few notes of the song of time. Time. That was what everyone called him now, since it was the word he’d been muttering when they’d found him there, on top of the clock tower. 

But now, he found himself staring at the palace gate. He needed something. Someone. Needed to cry. Needed to be held. He’d barely made it here- in fact- it had taken him two years to make the journey from Termina back to Hyrule. 

“I’m here to see Zelda.” he managed, shuffling up to the guards at the gate, who looked at him incredulously.   
“We don’t let just anyone in here to see Zelda, you know...” one of the guards replied, “Who are you anyway, some sort of vagabond?”  
He had to admit, he did look raggedy. His hair had grown out, and due to his lack of maintenance, he hadn’t managed to cut it in any way that looked anything like reasonable. What was the point anyway? Cutting his hair just reminded him of slicing, which reminded him of swords, which reminded him of...   
He wasn’t going to go there.  
Fingering a pocket of his tunic, he pulled out an old letter, “Zelda had asked me for some... business before. This royal seal should confirm it.”  
The guard grabbed the letter, appearing rather short with the misshapen young teenager, “This... this is authentic. But... was it really given to you?” the guard asked, raising his eyebrow, “I doubt the royal Family would trust such an important task to a mere child.”   
Time sighed, “I- please. I really need to see Zelda.”  
The guard narrowed his eyes further, “And what business do you have with the Princess... she’s not even here right now, she’s making a tour of the Kingdom. But you would know that, if you were really associated with the Family.”   
Time didn’t really hear any of that except for the fact that Zelda wasn’t there. In fact, ‘Lullaby’ was currently playing flute with the Zora. She’d never hear about this encounter. Perhaps if she would have, it would have been different.

Time turned to leave, and the sunlight glinted off of the Ocarina on his hip. Had he had more presence of mind, had he not been distracted by the raging pain that was trapped in his mind, he would have thought to hide it. Especially when the guard was already suspicious.

“That.” the guard yelled, “That is the Royal Family’s Ocarina. The one that went missing two years ago! You... you stole it! And you must have taken that letter at the same time!”  
Time’s eyes widened as he realized what was happening. He turned in just enough time to see the rest of the guards- four in total- at the gate spring into action.

He pulled out his sword instinctively, then looked at the helix design that was now sketched- permanently- into the blade. His eyes were reflected in the glass. His heart seized. And he dropped the weapons, the guards upon him, not even feeling as he was dragged away.

There was no trial. This was a monarchy, and he’d stolen from the Royal Family. His only benefit was that he was young. ‘Only five years.’ they had said. ‘Five years is good, for treason. You should consider yourself lucky.’   
But he didn’t. Because all this ‘luck’ meant was now he was stuck. If the memories were scorched into him before, it was oh-so much worse now.   
There was only his mind. And this dark, empty cell. 

Five years passed in a jerking blur. Time ceased to have meaning. Most days, the guards had to force him to eat. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t function past this... this invasion inside his mind. The three days, the lifetime he remembered that no one else did.  
...Time.

Five years had passed. And he was thrown- forcibly- out of the dungeons. They’d had to make him move. Make him get up just like they’d dragged him off of the clock tower...   
Clocks...  
He winced. Fell to his knees outside the palace gate. He didn’t want to be beaten by the guards, or dragged again because that reminded him of there. He forced his feet underneath him. Stumbled to the tree. Where it all began. “Go see the Princess,” the owl had said, “You will be fine. You are a hero.”  
He’d only later learned that that title came with scars. 

His knees went down, his legs fell. This place was too much. It was too much. He couldn’t manage any longer. He fell, his weakened body hitting the mud underneath the tree with enough force to knock out his feeble consciousness.   
His face, splattered with mud. Shoulder-length hair unkempt and mishappenly cut. His green tunic stained with red and brown and pain now. No sword. Nothing on him except his fairy ocarina. They’d let him keep that when he’d winced at the music.

That was where she found him.

Malon had been walking back from the palace, doing the weekly milk run. Holding an empty crate, she’d exited the gates in a rather chipper mood, sitting high atop the family wagon. That was quickly to change.

Her first instinct upon seeing the young man in the ditch had been to glance away. But something in her couldn’t quite do that. And in that second that she didn’t look away, she noticed the hint of green still not dirty in the youth’s tunic. 

“Fairy boy?” she whispered, jumping off of the wagon and walking over. She bent down and put a hand on his unconscious face, pulling it out of the mud. She recognized him now- the yellow hair, green clothes. There was no fairy now, though. Just a tortured look next to the mud on his face. A hand over her mouth, she wrapped her arms around his limp form.   
She still remembered the first time she met him, at the farm. They’d played a song together and he’d ran off, hyah’ing into the distance. He’d seemed light. Not like this.

And as such, she couldn’t quite bring herself to leave him. The bed of the wagon was empty, after all. Her father, Talon, would know what to do.

She couldn’t get over the change. The laughter she remembered to whatever she called now. She wasn’t sure how he’d got there. What had happened. But she remembered too, her father telling him about the small green child who’d brought him back home. She owed him. 

The journey home that day was a sombre one, and she undertook it in silence. He hadn’t woken up yet. He didn’t look like he’d eaten in days. She wondered if he would wake up. Her father took one look at her expression when she returned and his welcoming, joyful face fell. She showed him.

“Wha- what’s happened to him, Mal?” Talon asked.  
She shook her head, “I don’t know.”

Time woke up in a bed for the first time in years. His stomach ached, a dull agony that signals you’ve become far too used to this state of being. His hands went to his face. He was clean. He was wearing new clothes. His hair- back in a ponytail now. His hands came back shaking. Where was he? How had he gotten here? How were the sheets that were cast over him perfectly white?

“Oh.” said a voice, “You’re awake.”  
He looked to the doorway, stepping straight back into a memory. It was her, exactly as he remembered from the timeline that never was. Malon. He stared dumbfounded.  
“We found you in the ditch, fairy boy.” she told him softly, placing a cup of stew into his shaking hands, “Are you okay?”  
He looked at the soup, looked at her. There was care in her eyes. Hope. But he couldn’t force the words out of his throat. And yet, he couldn’t quite refuse an answer. He shook his head, sipping the stew slowly.   
“What happened to you?” she asked.  
He shook his head again. Letting the hair fall over his scars, in hopes she wouldn’t see. It was the last thing she needed.

In the days that followed, Malon didn’t hear him speak once. His youthful joyfulness, childishness had vanished. Whatever remained... she didn’t really know what remained. Talon had offered him a place as a stablehand (moreso to give him a place, they didn’t really need the help) but he seemed to move through the motions mechanically. 

Ingo- the other stable hand- complained about his presence. She wasn’t sure if it was jealousy or annoyance that drove it, but what he said worried her even more. Especially coupled with this perpetual silence, “Every third day!” he would rant, “EVERY. THIRD. DAY. He wakes up screaming. I can hardly get any sleep! And it’s not just that! Every time the stupid town clock goes off, he just freezes and drops everything and then there’s a bunch to clean up and...”

She wanted to ask fairy boy about it, but couldn’t forget the haunted, slow head shake she’d given the one time she’d ventured to ask. About a week after he’d come, a few guards showed up at the Ranch.  
“We have his stuff.” one of them commented gruffly, “It’s creeping the guard’s out. Also, as keepers of the peace, we have to recommend that you don’t employ a criminal.”  
A... criminal? Malon wondered, That doesn’t make sense.  
And that wasn’t the only thing. While what the guards said did explain why this child had been in the palace to begin with when her father had fallen asleep delivering milk, she couldn’t see him doing it intentionally. And why, on Hylia’s sweet Hyrule, did he have a bag of masks? 

She sighed. I should probably return this bag.  
She knocked on the stable door.   
Ingo opened it, “What?” he demanded in his usual short manner.  
“Where is he? A few guards dropped off his stuff.”  
“Guards?” Ingo asked suspiciously, “Why do guards have his things? IS THERE SOMETHING YOU NEED TO TELL ME?”  
Malon ignored his familiar protests, shoving past him and pushing deeper into the barn. Fairy boy was standing at the hay, shoveling it into the cow’s stalls.   
“A few guards brought your things.” she commented offhandedly, throwing the bag on the ground and trying not to break into tears. It hurt to see him like this.   
He looked surprised, bending down and unfolding the flap that was holding the items in the package. The masks spilled out of the overstuffed bag, and he froze. Hands in the same position, a choking sound coming out of his throat. Staring into a white mask with white eyes.

Ingo popped back into the barn, curious. There were masks spilled over the floor. A cow. What he thought was a... Deku scrub? And...  
“Wait, what?” Ingo was at a loss for words, “Why... why do you have a mask that looks like me?!?”   
But Time wasn’t responding. Just staring, an equal mixed of horrified and entranced, into the pale mask that was splashed with bright colours. His hand seemed to be mechanically moving closer, reaching.   
He grabbed his own wrist, suddenly. Pulling himself back. He choked out a sob. Scuttled along the floor, into the rough hay, as far away as possible.   
“...no” he chanted to himself in a quiet garble of words, “...no no no no”

Malon took the hint after that, keeping the bag far away from him. Especially that.. that one mask. Ingo, on the other hand, was incessantly curious.   
“So why do you have a mask that looks like me?” he asked for the five millionth time.  
Maybe Time was just sick of being asked, but he eventually answered after another week. It was the first time he’d spoken- really spoken- in almost seven years. Born out of pure, utter, exasperation. He didn’t like the other stable hand. He’d seen what he would have become, if Ganondorf would have given him the chance.  
“It’s from one of your brothers in Termina.” he told Ingo, voice empty and scratchy, “I helped him with something. You can have it if you want.”  
Ingo’s eyes widened, “You’ve met my brothers?!?”  
But Time was already out of earshot.  
“Wait!” Ingo demanded, chasing after, “I NEED ANSWERS!” 

He did break out the mask bag to give Ingo the promised mask. The more he got rid of, the better. If only he could safely get rid of that one. 

Ingo held his brother’s mask gingerly.   
“It’s almost as if I can feel them, just by holding this...” he trailed off, “Is it magic or something?”  
Time’s eyes widened, and he quickly put the bag away. That was a little closer to the truth than he’d like. He’d given him the mask, now he wouldn’t be bothered again.

At least that was the idea. Ingo seemed to take the mask offering as a token of friendship. The stablehands did everything together now, and he found Time quite the good recipient of whatever he wanted to complain/rant about. Since Time rarely talked, it worked out well....at least for Ingo. 

Malon, on the other hand, was a less frequent presence. She tended the cucoos, and that was really the only time they would have together. And Ingo hated the cucoos (something about them being scary... though he suspected there was more to that story).  
“So fairy boy?” she asked one day, “Ingo says you’ve been to Termina...”   
He nodded, continuing to rake the coop.  
“I can’t help but remember that Termina is famous for its Clock Town.”  
He winced as she said the word ‘Clock’ slowly and deliberately. Malon noticed.  
“You’re going to have to say something sooner or later.” she said, “You can’t keep on like this. No human is capable of listening to Ingo that long, unless something is seriously wrong.”  
He smiled a little, sadly. “Not today.” he whispered, “Too soon.”  
Malon frowned, “It’s been months now.” 

He had lost his sense of time, but he supposed it had been months, by now. His mind often drifted. Was he in this world? This set of days? He half expected Ganondorf to come riding out of the palace, malice spilling everywhere. But this wasn’t that future. Was it?

“Keep asking.” he told her, “Maybe one day, I’ll tell you.”

At this point, Malon could make a list of the things that were wrong with fairy boy.  
There was the screaming. Every three days. Precisely at midnight.   
Clocks. The chimes would either cause him to freeze, wince, or collapse sweating and shaking in the corner.  
The masks, too. He’d gotten rid of as many as he could. Pawning the least dangerous off to passerby. Talon had taken the cow’s mask. “It will be good promotion!” he stated happily, “For the Ranch!” And that one... the pale mask... she hadn’t seen it since that day. When she’d first given Time his bag.

Then there were the more subtle ones.

He avoided music. Where they would play songs together as children, he now slipped inside when she began singing, thinking she didn’t notice.  
He wouldn’t touch a sword. Or bow. Specifically those. Axes, fine. Pitchforks, sure. But never a sword. Never a bow.   
And he actively avoided temples. Would go out of his way, take the worst jobs at the ranch, incur punishment to avoid celebrations.

But Malon was noticing a change. He kept his clothes clean, hair pulled back and fresh if not cut, and was eating now. That was something. Compared to how he was when he’d first came to the ranch, it was a lot.  
He was speaking now, too.  
She had to hope, had to say that was something. More than the utterly, agonizingly silence of before. Ingo had even stopped complaining about him. It had to be something, didn’t it? 

Time had filled out. Working long hours on the farm had rebuilt the old muscles of his adventuring days. He was lean now (that wouldn’t change) but it was a tense lean rather than something askin to a noodle.   
Ingo seemed, to some degree, slightly intimidated by him now. And travellers and visitors were beginning to take notice of the quiet stablehand. It made Malon’s blood boil, though she couldn’t explain why yet.

Life at Lon Lon continued in the usual fashion. Everybody being woken up every three days. Work. Milk. Cuckoos. People cycling in and out. Merchants. Traders. Everyone (even Ingo) has adjusted to fairy boy’s presence, and life was beginning to resume some semblance of normality.   
It was spring now, and the horses were beginning to be prepared for the races and festivals, jumping competitions and new owners. Malon always hated to see some go, but there was something fresh in the air. Something new.   
She was singing softly when it happened. An old song that she whispered to the coat of Epona, her favourite. She hadn’t heard him approach- he’d gotten rather good at being silent.  
She’d only realized when other notes started echoing in the empty air, matching hers. She’d been brushing Epona and stopped singing, looking around with a start. Fairy boy had- for once- not disappeared when she’d started the song. Instead, he’d pulled out a wooden ocarina and matched her notes.   
It wasn’t perfect. In fact, the notes sounded strained. Broken. But this was the first time she’d heard him play since he’d been here. And his strained and small smile let her know he was trying.   
She joined her voice in again. Notes to the empty air. Just like when they were children.

…

The festival was a few weeks later. Fanfare echoed over the ranch. Ribbons twirling through the air. The wind smelled of fresh blossoms, the air like cooking. It was a new season and a new day, though the plants still bore scars of the past winter.   
The ranch was busy preparing for all the events that were going to take place there. Malon was helping organize. Her father was- well- he was mostly sleeping. Ingo and Time were tasked with setting boxes, hanging streamers, making sure the horses and cows were presentable.   
There was an air of celebration about, but Time didn’t feel like it quite fit. He could play now- broken notes- but there was still heaviness. He wondered if any of these people knew how close they’d come to disaster. This place- this future- had been burned last time he saw it. And nobody knew. 

“Hurry up over there! The fair is in two days!” Ingo called from atop a stack of boxes, “We don’t have time to stand around and look mournfully thoughtful!”   
Time sighed, but came. It was around the time now that he’d come back in on his first adventure... just another future. It was all very confusing. He’d been thinking about that future a lot lately. He’d found- surprisingly- that he didn’t hate thinking about that. It was okay. Not like thinking about ... there.  
Ingo sighed, throwing grain in his face, “What’s up with you lately? I mean you’re quiet and brooding all the time, but especially lately... It’s been hard to talk to you. Seriously.”   
Time shrugged, but he really knew why it was so difficult for him to talk to the other stable hand. Now that the time was how it was when Ganon ruled, it was hard to convince himself that things were different. And he’d seen Ingo laughing as he took over the ranch, raced the man for a horse, seen the greed and deceit beneath. He tried to tell himself that that was only in his head. That that future hadn’t happened. But he still feared what the man would do if given the chance.   
It didn’t seem like time for a celebration.

And yet, the celebration came. Fanfare, people. Way too many people. He took care to avoid the guards (who still regarded him suspiciously). They’d barely been convinced not to have him under permanent watch. Malon was sweeping the horse races. Talon was telling children stories. Ingo was... somewhere. Probably the milk bar. But he tried to avoid all that. Sought silence and solitude. Comfort.  
It was under the tree that she found him.  
“Link?” Zelda asked, innocently, “What are you doing here?”  
He hadn’t heard the voice in years, but he still recognized it, even from behind. His comfort shattered, eyes slowly pulling back. Looking her in the eyes. He didn’t know what to say. Why weren’t you there? he wanted to scream, Why didn’t you look for me? Was I just a puppet to you? The pain of his first adventure came roaring back and he felt himself unable to speak as she sat down next to him.  
“Where have you been?” she asked, seemingly not aware of all the hell he’d been through.  
He was too stunned to speak, too hurt to not, “Why don’t you ask your guards that.” he replied quietly. “I’m sure they’ll tell you. Not that you ever bothered to check.”   
Zelda’s eyes widened, “A-are you okay? Did they hurt you?”   
Time put his face in his knees, “Just please. Leave me alone.”  
Zelda looked ever-more concerned, “I can clear things up, if there’s been a misunderstanding! I’m sure that they’ll understand.”  
“It’s too late for that.”  
Zelda stalked off to go clear up the misunderstanding, and Time was thankful for the fact she left, if nothing else. He quickly changed where he was. This time, he moved to the milk shed. Climbed to the tallest level. And sat down in the hay and started sobbing.  
Part of him dimly recognized that Zelda hadn’t meant to do what she’d done, after all, she was young too then. But part of him hated how easily she’d forgotten. How she’d never checked when the guards had returned the Royal Ocarina. He felt like the puppet of forces beyond his control. He’d been ripped out of the forest and thrown into adulthood. All he’d wanted after that was to find his friends again. But then there were the clocks. And then there was pain.   
And so, for the first time in about seven years, he just sobbed.

Malon had come in to check on the cows.   
But the sound of muffled sobs far above had called to her in a very human way. She really couldn’t resist climbing up the ladder and investigating. No one should have to go through all of that alone, she thought. But her heart broke when she saw who it was.   
“Fairy boy?” she asked, “What’s happening?”  
Time looked up at her, tears streaking down his face, and saw only care. She hadn’t left him behind. In fact, she’d put up with him at his most broken. He slumped into her and cried for a good long time.   
Then he told her everything. Everything, that is, about the first time. Here, in Hyrule. Not the other place yet. It poured out of him like a font. He couldn’t stop. It needed to come out. Now. Or else it was going to tear him apart. His voice was breaking, he felt like he was choking on the words, but he told her.  
“Holy Hylia.” Malon breathed, “You did that? As a child?”   
He nodded mutely, voice all burnt out now.  
“Is that it?” she asked, eyes wide with care and something else that his tired mind didn’t recognize, “Is that what happened to you? Is that why you lost all your joy?”  
“That’s only half of it.” he managed.  
Malon left him sleeping on the soft hay, after placing a blanket over his shivering form. She was numb with shock. Concern. Pity, for fairy boy.   
But the one that was winning was anger. They hadn’t had a right to tell him it had to be him. They didn’t have a right to stand by and watch him be butchered. They didn’t have the right to demand that of a ten-year-old child.   
It was time to go see a Princess under a cuckoo tree.

“Where’s Link?” Zelda asked slowly upon seeing and angry red-haired girl underneath the tree instead.  
“Not here.” Malon said sharply, “And I’m not telling you where he is either.”  
“Why?” Zelda cried in a pained tone, “I just... I just want to talk to him?”  
“Yeah, well you’re talking to him just sparked a breakdown so I’m not inclined to believe that’s a particularly good thing right now.”  
“Who are you, anyway?”   
“The person who was there. Who had to deal with what you and your imbecile guards left behind. The person who actually cared about what happened to him.”  
Zelda tried to stop herself from crying, “I-I didn’t mean to. I didn’t realize...”  
“YOU DIDN’T LOOK! You didn’t ask! You didn’t care once he’d saved your stupid precious kingdom! I hope you’re happy with it now.”  
Zelda just stared open-mouthed at the ranch owner as Malon continued, “And I’m not letting you come here and make him upset when he’s not ready to face you and that yet and have you ruin all the progress he’s made at the ranch! He’s not ready! He’s not...”  
Zelda whispered, “... do you think he will ever be? Ready? To forgive me? I was small. I didn’t realize I could make a different choice...”  
“That’s for him to decide.” Malon huffed, “But it will be when he is ready. I don’t want to see your face around here again. NOT UNTIL IF OR WHEN HE ASKS. I won’t have you making him so much worse.”  
And then she staked off and left the princess with tears in her eyes.

Time woke up feeling burnt out. His eyes were dry. But he felt strangely better.   
“Hey.” Ingo commented, “You’ve been missing all of the fun.”  
“I think I’ll live.” Time shot back skeptically.  
Ingo barked a laugh and sat down beside him, “You good? Like, actually?”  
“No.” he admitted, “But I’m... better.”  
“That’s good.” Ingo smiled devilishly, “Because I’ve got a glass of Triple-A quality milk with your name on it!”  
“NO!” Time gasped as Ingo dragged him out of the milk shed, “PLEASE! HAVE MERCY! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?”  
“A little social interaction will be good for you!” Ingo smiled, already walking in the direction of the milk bar.  
“I hate social interaction!” Time complained after him, “I like trees, not people!”   
“Well the milk bar is made out of trees? Come on already!”  
Time sighed, but found his footsteps following the stablehand. Maybe a distraction would be helpful.

...

“That was a terrible idea.” Time commented, scowling at Ingo.  
“What are you talking about?” Ingo laughed, “I thought the look on the guy’s face was funny.”  
“Yes.” Time rolled his eyes and commented sarcastically, “And it was funny when you were thrown out on your butt, too. And me. Because apparently it’s a crime to be seen with an idiot. Though, to be fair, I should have known better...”  
Ingo started laughing, “Hey, admit it, you enjoyed yourself. Maybe just a little bit?”  
Time smiled slightly, “...maybe just a little bit.”  
“YES!”  
“BUT DON’T LET IT GO TO YOUR HEAD!”

After the festival, there was cleaning up to do. Or more accurately, taking the stuff and putting it so it can go clutter up another location. And if Ingo had anything to say about it, that was Time’s face. He’d also tried Malon. Once. After being almost murdered, he’d decided that that wasn’t such a good idea.   
Time had been telling himself, over and over, that this wasn’t the Ingo he knew from Ganon’s timeline. It was different. He was lighter. He had to be. Because Time didn’t know what he’d do if he turned out to be the same. He felt like him mind was stuck in quicksand- but Malon and Ingo had grabbed his arms and were starting to pull him out. Or give him the will to pull himself out, or something. He didn’t know what he would do if the stablehand let go.  
Most days he tried to forget about that, and focus on trying to play in-key with Malon. Or shovel the hay. Or laugh as she blew a feather onto his nose. He was enjoying spending time with her more and more and he wasn’t sure it was purely innocent on either of their parts. But it was still nice.   
He hadn’t seen Zelda again. He didn’t mind. He’d gone years without seeing her, he could go years more. Maybe another day. She had her royal life after all, and he wanted nothing more than a simple existence. Friends. The childhood he’d never gotten.

That was right about when Ingo started acting funny.   
Time noticed it quickly. Ingo seemed distracted, whereas before he’d thrown himself fully into every little thing (often far too exuberantly). When he’d asked about it, Ingo tried to say it was ‘nothing’. It wasn’t nothing. Time knew that from being the person who always said it was ‘nothing’. He knew when someone was lying. Knew the look in the eye.   
He sighed, promising himself to wait. He’d taken time to tell even half of what he’d experienced. Perhaps Ingo just needed some time too. But he wasn’t Ingo and Ingo wasn’t him, a traitorous part of him said, and maybe it’s finally happening. Maybe this is like the Ganon timeline after all.  
In hindsight, Time shouldn’t have waited.

He woke up to lights dancing outside, the lantern swinging back and forth and casting shadows through the barn where he and Ingo usually slept. But the man’s bed was empty.   
Time jumped up with a start, coming out to investigate. Ingo was out... at the middle of the night? Why? Time quietly got up and slugged on an outdoor outfit before following.   
He caught up with Ingo lying on the ground, hands covered from digging in the dirt, a manic look in his eye. He was holding a white, dirt-smeared mask. Looking at it if mesmerized.   
“Ingo...” Time began slowly, “What are you doing.”  
Ingo looked at him, “It’s pretty, isn’t it? It’s been whispering to me...”  
Time’s heart sank. He’d barely resisted that mask but Ingo? The man had weaknesses. Ones that twisted thing would most certainly exploit. That mask. White and blue and red. Terror entered Time’s eyes as he looked at it.  
See, the mask whispered, He is scared of you.  
“Yes...” Ingo murmured slowly, as if under a trance, “He always was, wasn’t he... none of it... none of it was real?”  
Time’s jaw shot to the floor, “I’m not scared of you, you idiot. I’m scared of that thing.”  
Ingo looked back at him, “...you want it for yourself, don’t you? I know you’ve worn it before. I can see the scars... on your face...”  
“Hell no.” Time managed, his voice quavering, “I want that thing as far away as possible from me and anyone I care about. But I also don’t want it out in the world.”  
“It said it can give me power...” Ingo gasped, “So people... so people will like me...”  
Time shuddered, it was as if the mask knew what he would try today next. He tried to think, tried to figure out the right words.  
Ingo slowly brought the mask up to his face.  
It was almost touching before Time blurted, “I LIKE YOU! I like you not as a power-hungry maniac. I like you as a friend. That thing... that thing will promise you the world and everything in it but it is a liar because it will take more from you then you could ever realize!”  
Ingo paused and Time continued, “That mask is hell. Wearing it twists you. There’s... there’s an old god in there. And it wants what it wants, not what you want. It’s just using you to.. to get a meat sack. I can tell you truly if you put that on it will be the worst mistake of your life and you won’t be able to forgive yourself afterwards or stop wondering if you’re really that killing machine that you were when you put it on and you won’t ever be able to touch a sword again and...” Time trailed off as he realized he’d been talking about himself.   
Ingo seemed to realize it too, and his eyes widened.  
NO! the mask screamed, lunging itself at Ingo’s face.  
Time jumped and tackled his friend, ripping the mask out of his grip and throwing the thing as far away as he could. Ingo collapsed gasping and Time ran over to the mask. “STUPID!” he slammed his foot down, “STUPID!” he chucked it against the fence, “STUPID!” he ran to the shed and pulled out a hammer, “STUPID!” he started sobbing, “WHY DO YOU HAVE TO KEEP RUINING MY LIFE?”   
He collapsed, sobbing. Ingo managed to heave himself up and wrap his arms around Time’s shoulders. “Is it gone?” he asked, tearing up too.   
“No.” Time sighed sadly. “I haven’t found a way to break it yet.”  
“What do we do, then?”  
“Lock it away and hide the key?” Time ventured, “Or better yet, just chuck the key away so we don’t even know where it went. Throw it in a box and sink it to the bottom of Lake Hylia? And then do the key thing?”  
“T-that sounds good...” Ingo’s voice was breaking, “I- I don’t know what happened it was like.. like it took me over or something...”   
“I know.” Time wrapped his arms around Ingo too, “Believe me, I know.”  
Time should have done exactly what he said he was going to do. Should have locked the mask up and threw away the key. But he couldn’t. Now, he did hide it. A good distance this time, out of the ranch. But he kept the key. Because despite everything, despite all that the blue and red and white mask had done to him, he couldn’t fight without it. Not anymore. And if he ever needed to protect this place... well, he’d need to make some decisions.   
But he didn’t tell anyone that. 

...

Malon found out rather quickly what had happened that night. The mask explained Ingo’s recent weird behaviour, at least. But what concerned her is what Time had said. The inability to hold a sword made sense now, but she feared he was hiding more than she suspected initially. ‘That was only half of it’ he’d told her when she’d held him during the festival.   
So what was the other half?  
These masks, the clock, Termina perhaps? He always shied away from that topic. But either way, she needed to know. It was more than just concern now, she wanted to help him. Wanted to see that ever-rarer childish smile. Wanted to be able to hold him and help him through this.   
It was Ingo who noticed first. The longing in her. She’d always said she’d wanted a white knight, but Time wasn’t exactly that so maybe that’s why he hesitated. But eventually, the question was asked. “You like him, don’t you? Like...”  
“I know what you mean!” she snapped at him, “And yes. What’s it to you?”  
He shrugged, “Nothing, really. I just noticed.”  
“I just... how am I supposed to? He doesn’t... he keeps everything... has he even talked to you about the masks? About the lost time?”   
“Masks...” Ingo contemplated this, “I mean, I know about the mask. But not much more. And what do you mean, lost time?”  
Malon sighed, “I don’t know... what I should say. It is his secret to tell, isn’t it?”  
“Well, then I’ll just ask him.” Ingo shrugged, walking over to Time.  
Malon panicked, unsure of how to proceed. She’d been trying to step delicately. Trying to not push too many buttons. It felt odd, but she didn’t really know how else to deal with it. Though, she supposed it was making her weary as well... How much time did he really need? And why did the truth only seem to come out when he was cracking at the edges?  
She grabbed Ingo’s arm, “Not right now. We plan this. Find a good moment. And ask then. Both of us.”  
He stopped, looking back at her, “Yeah, okay. Maybe it is a bad time.” he sighed, “I just... I see glimpses of a person, sometimes. And I... I’m just sick of only that. He needs to stop doing this to himself. It’s not his fault, whatever he went through, but he should learn... it doesn’t need to rest all on his shoulders.”  
Malon’s voice was pained, “I know. I knew him when he was young, you know. He was so different. Carefree. But now?” she sighed, “But what if this only makes it worse?”  
Ingo looked over at his friend, “I don’t know if it can get worse. Than this purgatory. Not knowing. Not being able to really help.”   
Malon looked over at him. Time was currently stacking hay, quiet as ever. Fingers tracing the light scars on his cheeks.   
“Okay.” she said, “When do you think would be a good time?”  
“Not around noon.” Ingo thought, “More clock chimes then.”   
She nodded, “Morning. Morning is better. Everything’s new in the morning, isn’t it?”

Morning came the next day and morning went. Despite his earlier encouragement, Ingo seemed just as nervous as she was. Likely, he was terrified that this intervention would lose him his only true friend. Malon had observed over the years that Ingo seemed a lot more confident than he felt, and it took a lot for the man to be convinced he was truly liked. Sometimes he would lash out when he’d felt the worst, but Time had mediated that recently. And now he was torn between caring for a friend, no matter what it took and potentially tearing through what he had found in that friend.  
Malon, on the other hand, only felt more sure. She needed answers. She needed to know. She’d given him enough time. And she couldn’t sit around and hold on to someone who wouldn’t help himself. She wanted to find out if he was hopeless or not. Was fairy boy gone forever? Or could the joy be returned, at least a little bit? She could settle for that. She couldn’t settle for inexplicable screaming.   
Morning came...  
And morning went.

Tomorrow, she promised herself, we can do it tomorrow.

Morning came. The sun was high in the sky. Time was more chipper than usual. Malon looked at Ingo and nodded. It was today.  
“I need to talk with you.” Malon told him, gesturing to Time who was feeding the cows.   
“Okay?” he asked quizzically, unsure of what exactly what was happening.  
Malon led him through the ranch, and up to the cuckoo tree. Ingo was already there, leaning against the bark and not meeting his eyes. That’s how he knew something was wrong.   
“W-what is this?” he asked softly, his voice melting in his throat.  
Malon met his eyes with a challenging expression that both made him wilt and made a part of him flare to match it. “This is enough. This is me saying that you can’t expect to lounge around and beat yourself up forever. This is me saying you’ve had enough time. Please. You have to tell us something. You have to give something. We can’t help you if we don’t know what we’re helping you with. And I’m sick of you being a wreck before you dare to speak. Can’t we change this? So that you can open up before you break?”  
Time swallowed hard, looking at Ingo, “Do you agree with this?”   
Ingo nodded, trying to hold back tears, “This isn’t right, you going on like this. It can be better. Just, is it too much to ask for you to speak? I know what that mask did to me... and you actually wore it. And yet, you go on as if it’s nothing when I know that’s not the case.”   
Time bristled, “But talking hurts.”  
Malon stomped her foot “The way you’re acting, living hurts. Aren’t you going to do anything to change that?”   
Ingo swallowed hard. Time could see now he was shaking, “We’re just... we want to help. But you have to help us too.”  
Time felt cornered. Like a wild animal. His voice emptied from his body, words becoming nothing more than a gasp of air. He felt cornered. He’d been having a *good* day.   
“You can’t keep living good day to good day through all the really shitty days.” Malon told him, but he could barely hear it. He wanted to run. Needed to get away. Everything he was afraid of was right in front of him. He took a step back.  
“Wait!” Ingo gasped out as he turned and ran, “Please, just wait! Time!”   
Malone looked at her feet, “He’s made his decision then.”  
Ingo collapsed, “So that’s it. I guess.”   
Malon bit her lip to stop the tears.  
“I should have never done this. It was a horrible idea. Stupid. And it’s all your fault.” he was angry now, “Now he’ll never talk to me again. But what do you care, anyway? I’m just labour to you. Just a way to make your life easier.”  
“Ingo,” Malon said softly, “That’s not...”   
Ingo got up, stalking off, malice in his eyes, “Leave me alone.”

…

Time jumped on the nearest horse and ran, trucking it out of the ranch and to Hyrule Field. His fears were in front of him now, clocks reverberating through his body with every slam of the hoof onto the packed earth. He could see the eyes of the masks- both of them. Purple and white. The screams as he, a child in an adult’s body, had to face down hell on earth. Being locked in a cage. All of it was with him now. He felt like he was choking. He couldn’t do it anymore. Everything was closing in, crushing him from inside out.   
His arms gave out and he collapsed on the ground, prone, like he’d been on that clock tower. He lay there in the dirt and mud and grass for a long time, then heaved himself up and looked at the world behind. The ranch rose like a sore thumb out of the landscape. He was all raw inside, but through the haze of pain there was the pat on the shoulder that Malon gave him when he did a good job. He could hear Ingo’s laugh. He just wanted to hug Malon. Just wanted to tell Ingo that he’d been a friend beyond what Time couldn’t have imagined over the year he’d been here. They hadn’t given up on him, even when he’d been lying in his own ruin.  
Who was he to give up on himself? 

Lifting shaky legs, he walked back to the ranch. He looked like how he felt, numb and covered in mud with sore legs and dirt smeared over his face, eyes red with tears, tears that made the mud streaks that ran down his cheeks. Grass in his hair. Screaming in his head.   
He barely made it to the barn, but he did... somehow.

Ingo was there, Malon too. They seemed to be having some sort of argument. He could see the same malice in Ingo’s eyes that he’d seen in the other future. Him leaving had caused that? The barn looked like a wreck. He supposed they complimented each other.  
“WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT, HUH?” Malon demanded, “YOU COULD ALWAYS GO BACK AND GO JOIN YOUR STUPID BROTHERS AND THEIR STUPID CIRCUS.”  
“DO NOT INSULT MY FAMILY, YOU... YOU JERK!” Ingo shot back, “AND IT’S NOT A CIRCUS!”  
“Stop,” Time choked out from the doorway. They hadn’t noticed him yet.  
“IT IS IF THE PEOPLE THERE ARE AS STUPID AND SELF CENTRIC AS YOU ARE!”   
“Stop!” Time managed louder.   
“AT LEAST I DON’T PRETEND TO BE AN ‘ALL-BENEVOLENT PERFECT RANCH OWNER WHO IS BELOVED BY ALL’. AT LEAST I CAN ADMIT IT... YOU CAN’T EVEN ADMIT THAT YOU HAVEN’T BEEN EXACTLY WELCOMING, OR BENEVOLENT, OR EVEN GOOD TO ME!”   
Time couldn’t handle it anymore, “STOP!” he yelled as loud as he could with his broken voice. 

They did stop, and both looked at him. Ingo’s mask of darkness disappeared, “Time?” he managed in a very quiet, almost plaintive, daringly hopeful tone.  
Malon looked shocked too, “Y-you’re back.” she said, her voice tender and saturated with a special kind of care that Time hadn’t noticed before.  
“I’ll tell you.” he whispered, “I-I’ll do it. You’re right. I can’t... I can’t go on like this...”  
Ingo and Malon looked at each other, a flare of anger re-igniting in their eyes but both nodded silently and pulled up a stool.

And he told them everything.   
Termina, Majora, the Fierce Deity.  
Hyrule, Ganondorf, the lost time.   
He poured the pain and suffering out like a well, choking the words out if he needed to. Crying through the whole thing until he had no tears left to offer. The prison sentence next, the four walls. Being abandoned. It all came out. Emptied out of his chest. The gaping hole was still there, but he felt like he’d poured out the excess from an overfilled container. He could manage now, at least.  
Ingo’s eyes were wide with disbelief, “You’re telling me, you’re telling me that I... that I did all these horrible things in the future that you knew, but... but you still could look at me? Much less be my... friend?”   
Time nodded, having the distinct feeling that that fact alone would mean everything in the world to his fellow stable hand.   
Malon pulled his chin up until he was meeting her eyes, “Thank you.” she whispered, and pulled his face up to hers, kissing him solidly on the lips. He gasped.   
“And?” Ingo ventured, seemingly back to his old self.  
Malon pulled back, crossed her arms and huffed, “And you are partially right, I don’t really like you and I haven’t from the beginning but I could have been nicer about it. But you could admit that you haven’t been easy to deal with.”  
Ingo nodded, “That’s fair. I’ll admit it. But I just... sometimes I don’t know what else to do...”  
Time’s brain conveniently took this moment to pass out.

The next few years weren’t perfect. Sometimes he would still scream on the third night, though less frequently. Sometimes he would cry. But he learned to speak, little by little. And little by little it got better. Malon was there, and he felt warm in her embrace. Ingo would always drag him to some social outing when the man could tell he was getting down.   
He managed to talk to Zelda. It wasn’t much, but it was something. He could tell, though, that they would never be as close. Never be the two conspiring kids who decided to take on the world again.   
But things were okay. 

He married Malon, eventually. Ingo seemed put-out by the arrangement... at least until Time asked him to be best man. He suspected it was just a manifestation of the fear that Time would just abandon him, and once Time proved that wrong? Well, the man wouldn’t miss an excuse to have fun.  
And the music came, with time. So did going to temple ceremonies. He even managed to throw the mask away where it belonged, and the key to the other end of the continent. Clocks slowly lost their hold on him. He picked up a bow for the first time in ages.  
And someday- sometime soon- a mysterious portal will open, eight others will spill out, and he’ll find he can hold a sword too.


End file.
